Day is Dimming
Disclaimer: I do not own Royal pains
This story is different from others posted here, so please read it with an open mind. I promise you will be the trademark "patient of the week" and more elements typical of the show later on in the story. I hope this story can stir thoughts and conversation and still remain in character. Please read it and review. Events in this story take place after the last episode in Season 5 and I have not yet seen the more recent seasons so please be patient with the incorporation of those elements.
Chapter One
The daylight was dimming over Sydney harbor as Hank sat at a café in a trendy part of the city. He was enjoying a rare moment of relaxation sipping on a flat white coffee at an outdoor table overlooking the harbor. Someone in his past mentioned the type of coffee preparation before though he couldn't place who. It was slightly less frothy than a cappuccino, and velvety smooth in consistency. Boris sat across from him reading a local paper, as Marisa and their child, Carlos rested in the hotel they picked for the trip. Hank took off his sunglasses as he no longer needed them as the sun was being hidden by clouds gathering over the harbor.
"Hmm, strange weather today." Boris commented. He briefly looked up from his paper to make the remark but didn't seem overly concerned.
"Hmm, hopefully it's just nothing," Hank remarked. He was loving the sunlight as Sydney weather in what was summer in the Hamptons was winter in once the equator was crossed. The breeze blowing in took on a slight chill without the light of the sun to warm it, and his skin bristled at the change. The awning of the café flapped and made fluttering noises in the wind, and it stirred any loose pieces of paper in it's way. Some larger pieces of papers floated across the pavement and he thought he heard someone exclaim. He looked to see a young woman reaching for a few of the papers, but the wind were talking them farther than she could reach, at a three tables down across from where they sat. Her hair and dress blew along with the paper and her distress was clear. Her light orange dress hung gently on her figure and her jeweled sandals caught what little light that was present. Hank stood and did his best to try and capture the wayward items, reaching for out and attempting to stop them with hands and even his feet as they crossed in front of them.
"Oh!" a woman exclaimed. "Be careful!" He looked up and saw the young woman in the orange dress, looking a little miffed. She locked eyes with him and stopped suddenly. Her eyes he noted now were brown, and took on a look of recognition that faded as soon as it came.
"I'm sorry." he said. He gathered what he could and handed two now slightly crumpled pieces of paper back to the woman. He only saw them briefly while attempting to gather them but they had an hurried scrawl to them with lines drawn through a few of them. "Hopefully they're nothing too important." he said with a rueful smile. She shook her head.
"Ah, they're just some work stuff." the woman said. "I don't think they're too far gone." she said smoothing out the ceases out on the skirt of her dress. Her eyes drifted back up to him and her eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry, I'm being rude. My name's Brooke Logan." she said extending her free hand. At the sound of her name he suddenly became flooded with a strange sense of familiarity. Had he seen her face or heard her name or voice before. She was a tall woman, standing a good two inches taller than himself, with a slender figure, olive skin and smooth dark brown hair. She was attractive but in a way that was in no way delicate but rather more exotic and willowy. She almost reminded him of Divya but taller and with stronger features, close set hooded eyes, a striking nose. Her wide full mouth curved in a pleasant way when she smiled, and her eyes were bright.
He had seen her somewhere, heard her voice somewhere, but before he forgot himself he made sure he extended his hand to her. They shook each others' hand and let go both studying each other curiously.
"I'm sorry Brooke, my name is Hank Lawson." he said still studying her. "I'm sorry, but I'm just standing here wondering where I know you from."
"Ahh." she said. "Me too frankly." she said with a nervous chuckle and Hank swore she blushed but it could have been shadows from the passing clouds playing on her face.
"Well, at least the curiosity is mutual then." Hank said with a rueful smile. She crossed her arms in front of her and rubbed her chin curiously.
"Indeed, but where on earth did I meet you? I know you're no local." she said. Indeed Hank wasn't but neither was she from the difference of her accent he heard the longer he heard her speak.
"Well, you got me there. I'm from Passaic, New Jersey originally. I did practice medicine in New York City for a time, in the past." he offered.
"Oh, well I'm actually from New Zealand, originally, but I, travel a lot for work."
"Really what do you do?" Hank asked excited suddenly by the clues she was giving.
"I'm a musician." she said after a slight pause. She rubbed the back of her neck and he noted the papers she held had musical keys and terms on them. A image of a dark haired woman singing sat at a piano filled his head. He remembered a warm soprano voice filling the room and giving him chills up and down his arms. Yes, that woman had to be her, maybe. Only if she performed in that club and his mind wasn't playing tricks.
"Hank." he heard Boris' voice snap him out of his thoughts. "How are the girl's papers?" he asked sounding slightly amused.
"Oh, they're fine." Brooke answered for him. "Thanks…." she said, and gesturing for him to give his name as well. "…concerned citizen of some other country." she said when she was met with no response but a smile. Hank smiled and chuckled.
"Look, I think I saw you play in New York, you don't just play music, you sing too, right?" Hank asked.
"Oh, you figured that out. Yes I did perform in New York, have actually a few times. What year do you think it was?" He thought back and told her his best guess. Her brow furrowed slightly and she thought for a moment.
"I'm going to text someone if that's alright." she said looking around for her phone, and then running back to her table. Hank guessed she thought she was risking it being stolen while they investigated each other. She sighed when she found her things safe and sound with a friend of hers who worked at the café. She thanked him vehemently, and placed the papers she'd been holding in a folder at the table. Hank smiled and watched her. Why did he think he had to see her beyond this meeting? He felt a pull in his gut not unlike others he'd felt on the trip. He found these feelings, or hunches or whatever they were tended to lead to the same place, perspective.
"Sure, who?" Hank said once she stood in front of him. He was suddenly anxious about who she could be contacting.
"Don't worry, I won't blow you cover." she teased only loud enough for him to hear. He chuckled again. The way she seemed to read his mind reminded him of old friends he'd had for years that could do the same thing. Her slender fingers made quick work on her I-phone sending out a message into space. "I sent a message to my tour manager, the date and he's going to see if we have any pictures. They might jog my memory, or yours even more. Do you know if we met afterwards?"
"People can meet you afterwards?"
"Yeah, or before sometimes. They are usually concert ticket giveaway winners, or we might have time to do a signing after a gig." she said still sounding embarrassed. From what Hank could remember she had legitimate talent and skill so her humility was surprising, pleasant but surprising. "So did you?"
"Uh, if I was I may have been in hospital scrubs, I think my fiancé took me along last minute after a early shift." Brooke's eyes narrowed and then widened. She looked him over trying to picture it and then came to her. She also noted no ring was present on his left ring finger, and felt slightly sad for him. Breakups by themselves were tough enough, but a broken engagement must have been torture.
"Were they blue?" she guessed, trying to turn her thoughts to the mystery at hand.
"Yeah, I tended to only wear blue, or green. Patients don't like to see a ER doctor covered in florals." She laughed, picturing him now as the description jogged her memory. More specifically his beautiful, curvy fiancé who looked less than thrilled to wait that long to meet her in the signing line. She remembered now, him smiling for a picture and saying some nice words about something, what, she couldn't remember.
"You remember now?" Hank said.
"Yes, I remember you being happy, standing there in scrubs, and your fiancé absolutely scowling, must of not wanted to wait in line, but why didn't she just want for you outside…" She stopped realizing she was rambling, a nervous habit of hers. Why was she nervous and felt as if she was sitting on a live wire? Hank shook his head.
"I think she was trying to make a statement. You remember all of that. Wow, I'm impressed."
"Me too." she said quietly. Hank knew she was growing uncomfortable. He had to do something to break the tension.
"Would you like to join my friend and myself?" Hank asked not wanting to let her go easily.
"Sure, just let me get my things." Brooke said. Before the words were out of her mouth he jumped into action, carefully picking up her things. He gestured towards the table Boris still sat now not reading his paper but looking at them with a raised brow.
"Brooke, meet my friend Boris."
"Pleasure to meet you Boris." she said extending her hand and being met with the older man standing up from is chair to take it. He had a regal bearing that made Brooke want to mind her posture around him.
"Pleasure is all mine." he said simply. "It seems you two know one another." Brooke suddenly felt like that comment meant more than it sounded. Brooke's phone beeped and buzzed in her hands making her jump.
"Easy." Hank said reaching out to touch her arm. "You ok?"
"Oh! Yeah, fine, just finally got the reply from my tour manager. He's asking me what you look like." She frowned. "why do I feel like you like to keep a low profile?"
"Ah, yeah. Sorry." he answered.
"Oh, no matter, I think if he narrowed it down to men in blue or green scrubs that should be enough." She typed more information into her phone and Hank tried to peer over to look at the screen.
"Hank." Boris warned. Hank turned slightly protective of him since their trip brought him to Brazil and he experienced something strange, if not also profound. He had never been an atheist by any stretch, but in practice of life he definitely didn't think about God most of his life. He had a surface understanding of his Jewish heritage, enough to make fun of the quirks in the cultural understanding of it. Not enough to even know what day Hanukkah started on when Evan and Paige were about to be married last December. She seemed more concerned about it than he and Evan were, and even a little annoyed that they were so ignorant of it. He hoped whenever he returned home he'd have her trust and understanding. He knew Evan, on the other hand would be a little hesitant, ask lots of pointed questions and maybe poke fun at his perceived new lifestyle.
"What?" Hank asked.
"Remember your focus." Boris said vaguely, and to anyone else they would have no idea what he was referring to. Boris had been encouraged to believe Hank's story mainly by Marisa, who was Catholic and believed him, even if she was cautious at first. She practically begged him to not become gullible or to change in her words "too much", as if a change of beliefs would alter his entire personality. Hank had known people who said they were Christians but his experiences with them had been mixed, so he understood her cautioning him.
His thoughts turned from the situation at hand, to the one in Brazil. He learned from a stranger who struck a lucky guess about his life, too lucky a guess . The man was dark skinned and rough looking, with a medium build not unlike his own minus the muscle mass. He wore a white plain t-shirt and walking shorts that were slightly frayed at the bottom.
"No I'm not sick." Hank responded, slightly confused at what the man was getting at. His eyes studied the man and he waited for any signs of mental instability, or physical ailments. He saw none but was struck by the brightness in the man's eyes.
"Ahh, but you are, everyone is." the man said in perfect English. Hank crossed his arms in front of him, creating an invisible barrier in-between the man and himself. Defensiveness rose up in him and Hank opened his mouth to speak but was beat to the punch.
"But, my dear man, love cures all sickness." the man said, his brown eyes sparkling. Hank scoffed and his brow furrowed. He thought quickly about what the man could mean, and went from the options of it being a proposition of a Brazilian pimp, or a crazy street preacher.
"I'm not sick." Hank answered but his head said "Anymore." "Love does heal.." Hank said remembering all the times the love of his brother, father or friends lifted him out of dark places that might of otherwise swallowed him whole. "…but I'm sorry, I don't quite understand why you walked up to me in the middle of the street…"
"God says he saw your pain when you had your …" the man said gesturing with his hand through his hair, in just the spot Hank had a scar on his own head. "…craniotomy." The word seemed to slap him in the face and he looked around suddenly feeling exposed. "He saw the bitterness that grew when your father left you alone." the man said, his voice softening with compassion. "He saw the pain it caused when your mother passed."
"Enough!" Hank yelled, forgetting himself by the rush of shock and pain that seemed to be as acute at when the events occurred. His heart raced and his fists clenched at his sides. The man's face twitched almost as if Hank had landed a blow to it, and the compassion that shone in his eyes unnerved him. "Where was He then, huh? Where was he when we lost all our money and my dad walked out on us? Where was God when my mom died, when I had to take care of my little brother by myself! Where was He?" Hank all but screamed.
"He's so sorry you had to go through it alone, he never wanted you to…" the man continued. Hank rolled his eyes and shook his head, thinking seriously about leaving, which he went to do when the man spoke again. "He's so proud of you!"
"Proud?" He was stunned at the words. "God was proud of me?"
"Yes Henry he was. He is." The sound of his name wiped some of the anger from his face. This man didn't know he was called Hank, much less that his birth name was Henry. This man should of known nothing about him, but he knew about the surgery, the placement of his scar and the pain that he fought after.
"Who is this god anyway? How does he say I'm sick, then say he's proud of me?" Hank asked, hoping his rapid fire questions would intimidate him. He glanced around and despite the people in the streets no one seemed to notice their exchange. The realization made a chill run up his spine.
"Your people called him Yeshu'a. All fathers can see their child's faults but still be proud of them."
"Jesus," Hank said flatly. "So the guy is a street preacher." he thought. "You're trying to say that I need a savior that Jesus is that savior." he almost spat the words out. He had always considered himself to be a good man, and for someone to say he needed help was insulting as all get out.
"Yes, and that he just wants you to walk with you now. He always did. He wants you to know." he man responded. Hank shook his head as he head turned to the ground as he tried to take in the words. This day would haunt his dreams tonight and he wasn't sure the dreams would be pleasant.
"I'm done!" he said lifting his head back up and threw his hands in the air. "Have a good life." He said more bitterly than he meant. He stormed away that day, but he couldn't help from repeating his story back to Boris and Marisa, who listened with intense concern.
"Sounds like God is trying to tell you something Hank." Marisa.
"Or someone has been stalking Hank." Boris offered.
Hank was puzzled by their opposite reactions, more expecting them to both be hesitant.
"Boris, in the middle of Brazil? This man doesn't seem to have anything to gain but the wrath of Hank's furrowed brow." Marisa said with a laugh. Her laugh eased his tension a bit, and his hands unclenched. Marisa sat up to retrieve her son who had begun to reach for her and spoke again.
"I never took you for a religious person Marisa." Hank remarked. The only sign of any religious beliefs either she or Boris displayed was at their son's christening in a Catholic church.
"I'm not Hank." she admitted. "but I believe the universe speaks to some people, maybe that man was right. If you can't explain how he knew about you, you might do well to ask the source." she said and cooed to her son. "God gave me a son, when I certainly wasn't doing much for him, and gave me my love back." she said looking from her son to Boris. "I'm not a perfect Catholic Hank. Hell, I'm not sure I am one. The last thing you or we need is a religious nut accompanying us but it can't hurt to find out, for yourself what this is all about. Explore and investigate, ask questions like the good doctor you are. And please, don't change too much. You're a good man, Hank, and I'd hate to see that change." At those words she moved into the other room carrying her son in her arms. Hank watched as she left, and then turned to Boris. He was met with a smirk and a shrug.
"Want me to have my men investigate?"
"Oh no, that's not necessary." Hank said gently. He could only imagine the way his men would go about investigating the man he met on the street.
"There is a Bible on the hotel drawer Hank, if it's in English maybe you can read it. See what you think." Hank's brow furrowed.
"Boris, I'm slightly confused." he said.
"We're not all completely godless in Germany. Many of us just don't know about established religion. Too many questions and failures. I'm fine with Marisa believing, but I just never wanted to investigate like she does. Though being often threatened with death can make some think about the hereafter." Hank nodded, understanding his reasoning.
He went to bed a few hours after their group conversation. He stared up at the ornate ceiling and replayed the events of the day over and over in his head. Maybe he was being stalked and spied on, but something deep in his gut didn't think so. Something just didn't add up as to why. He didn't have anything on him the man could want, nor did he ask for anything. If someone tried to steal his credit card and empty Hank Med's accounts their fraud would be quickly caught by Evan and their bank. Putting himself out on the limb like that he realized, took plenty of chutzpah and maybe a little bit insanity. Maybe it was compassion that moved him. Hank was reminded of many times he didn't have to intervene in a situation and he did, sometimes to his own detriment. His calm exterior often masked a ocean of adrenaline and emotion. What did the man see in him that told him that much?
Still looking up at the ceiling he said. " OK, umm God, uhh, Jesus I guess I should be calling you that. If you're real, stalk me, find me, show me who you are, show me some proof." He was still unsure whether he just spoke into the air, but he had to hope that maybe, just maybe he wasn't. He wanted a sign, something he could show his doubtful mind that what he went through today wasn't meaningless, a result of madness or worse. He suddenly felt his eyes grow heavy and sleep begin and the foreign feeling of a bone deep reassurance. He had a feeling as he drifted off he was about to find the answers to his questions, for better or worse.
"He said he found a picture of you." Brooke said, breaking into Hank's thoughts. "Let's see if it's you or if the entire medical team from level-1 trauma centers needed a night out." Brooke said laughing.
"Wait. How'd you know about me working at a level one trauma center?" Hank asked suddenly very curious. Brooke waved her hand.
"Ahh, lucky guess." Brooke responded looking up from her phone. "Did I scare you Doctor?"
"Please, call me Hank."
"I know, I was teasing you." Brooke said with a smirk. Her intelligent brown eyes gave him a fleeting glance.
"Do you always tease people you just met?" Hank said, not being able to hide his grin.
"No, but I do tease my friends." Brooke answered.
"I'm a friend already?"
"Would you like to be?" she teased again holding up her phone to reveal the photo on the screen. Indeed it showed them standing side my side slightly leaning their upper bodies together with a friendly smile for the camera. Hank wearing green scrubs and Brooke wearing a broad rimmed black hat, flowered blouse and close fitting jeans.
"Oh, it's a video file." Hank remarked.
"Really?"
"Yeah, it looks like a screen cap because that "play" button is in the middle." Hank said thinking back if he could remember a videoagrapher being there.
Brooke looked at the image and then typed an inquiry to her manager.
"Well, we'll find out in a bit, but I have a feeling I'm being, um, rude so, I'm going to put this away a while." she said suddenly feeling like a overly tech-loving teenager. Boris looked at her with a look of quiet amusement like she was a child, and Hank just flashed her a grin that made her stomach flutter. This was all so unexpected and strange, yet didn't feel wrong.
"What brings you to Sydney?" Brooke asked.
"Business." Boris answered.
"Ahh, yes, and I bet it's important." Brooke said, knowing she wasn't going to get much out of the polished older man. She could tell he was a man well in control of his world, or at least who liked everyone around him to think so. His causal attire did nothing to hide his regal bearing. "So what brings you to a café in the middle of the afternoon?"
"I was curious about this." Hank answered, holding up his coffee cup. The coffee was half gone and most likely nearly cold at the breeze and the time they spent talking had assured it would be.
"A flat white?" Brooke said with a laugh. "Wait, who recommended that?"
"Yeah, I think that's what it's called. I don't actually remember who suggested it." Hank admitted shrugging.
"Well a good flat white is like, a little glimpse of heaven to me." she said in mock dreaminess that made Hank chuckle.
"Your pleasures in the world must be limited." Boris said with a small smile. Hank was in the middle of a sip and almost choked on it upon hearing his remark. His brow furrowed and his lips drew a straight line across his face, his jaw as tight as a pulled bow string.
"So are you still practicing in New York?" Brooke asked, wanting to change the subject before Hank had it out with his friend. His jaw relaxed at her question.
"Yes, though not in the same place I was before. I was fired from the job I had at the trauma center because one day, I was playing basketball on my day off with my friends and some neighborhood kids. Out of nowhere one of them collapses on the ground, so, being a doctor, I jumped in to help. We ended up getting him to the ER in time to help the kid. But as I get there I'm notified to help in a surgery for a older man's heart surgery, so naturally I do. Everything seems to be going well, he was stable, so I placed him in the care of another physician. The hospital director didn't like it, but I couldn't foresee what would happen next." He paused.
"The older man…"
"Had complications due to a bad heart, and died later that day. I placed a higher priority on the kid."
"Oh, I'm sorry." Brooke said sitting back in her chair sadly.
"That's not even the best part. The kid lived, and the man who died was a rich board member of the hospital, so the hospital fires me, the guy's family blackballs me, pardon my French, and my fiancé leaves me."
"Hank, I'm so sorry, I can tell how much you loved what you did."
"Well here's the wonderful part, I through the encouragement of my brother and other very providential happenings, I end up starting up a new practice concentrating in concierge medicine."
Brooke laughed. " Sounds like more than luck."
"Oh, yeah, I know that now, five years in." Hank said with a shrug and a grin.
"Know what?" Brooke asked curious at to what he meant.
"That God was just planting me somewhere else, and asking me to grow. I've met so many great people, helped people, rich, poor and in-between, getting to do what I love." Hank smiled but it faded as sadness crossed his features. Pleasant features Brooke noted, a strong nose, chiseled cheekbones, deep set green eyes that held a humor and kindness that eased her nerves. When he had smiled she fought the urge to smile right back.
"So who is God to you these days Hank?" Brooke asked fiddling with the napkin in front of her.
"These days?" Hank laughed. "Not who I thought originally. Well, I'm having problems talking about this without sounding like a old fogy. Maybe if I heard your story …" he said gesturing to her. Boris adjusted his newspaper and set it down on the table.
"Just start from the beginning." Brooke encouraged. "My experience wasn't at a church, or camp, or with anyone around."
"Just alone in my bedroom." she said and Hank's voice mingled with hers. She laughed at the irony, and felt a kinship to this man sitting next to her. "I was sixteen, just in my room with an open Bible, and a revelation that Jesus was God, he was real, and stronger than the chains that bound me."
"Chains that bound you?" Hank repeated. "I can't quite imagine you chained up. You seem so…bright to me. I want to know your secret." Hank said before regretting it. He didn't regret his curiosity but how it could easily run out of control. The last thing he wanted was to move too fast on this one. Marisa warned him that the hardest thing to keep in check would be his libido, and it the remark still stung. He saw beauty in this woman that reached deeper than her outward appearance, and felt different from other women he had pursued. He was drawn to it like a moth to a flame, but instead of wanting to be consumed by her fire, he wanted to fan it. The consuming part could come later.
"Well, umm," she answered searching for the right words. She never liked her words about something so important to be flippant. " The knowledge that no matter what I'm loved, and that all this is about a relationship. I heard it said once that religion is a guy in church thinking about fishing, and a relationship is a guy out fishing thinking about God." She offered. Hank nodded as she mentioned each scenario.
"I do, like all the time. I can't stop thinking about how I kind of, uh, don't know to organically change my life. The last thing I want to be is useless to the ones I love. I honestly think I'm scared my friends and family just won't get it, and I'll pull away from them, or them from me. I love them. I don't want to cause rifts. I would lose too much." The sincerity in his voice made a lump of emotion grow in her throat. She knew exactly how he felt. Hank noticed and put his hand on top of hers, squeezing it gently.
"Seems like I'm not the only one to have this problem." he said softly. "It does get better doesn't it?" He asked pulling his hand from hers. Brooke's fingers twitched at the absence.
"Do you think He doesn't know or understand what you're going through?"
"No, he was rejected too, misunderstood, which is why my people killed him." Hank said grimacing.
"You're a fulfilled Jew?"
"Fulfilled Jew?" Hank asked confused. Brooke laughed and flashed a smile that he swore brought back the light of the sun that was starting to hang lower in the sky.
"It's a phrase for Jewish people who find their Messiah." she explained. Hank nodded.
"Sounds better than Jews for Jesus. That always sounded like a sports team to me." Hank remarked sparking a loud, melodious laugh from Brooke, and even Boris cracked a smile. It was glorious sounding to Hank who couldn't help but smile.
"Or a cheerleader routine." Hank added wanting to make her laugh again. "We're Jews for Jesus! Sorry that we killed him! Jews for Jesus!" Hank said in the rhythm of a cheer squad, quietly, to avoid stares from passersby. Brooke's eyes widened and covered her mouth to stifle the hiss of a held in laugh.
"You're wicked Hank." she said giving his arm a friendly nudge.
"Ehh, I'm kind of hoping for less wickedness."
"Do you think he's wicked Boris?" Brooke asked with a gleam in her eye.
"Actually Hank has great integrity, and is one of the best men I've ever known." Boris answered. "Any wickedness he sees in himself I know he's able to conquer. He's tackled bigger foes."
"That I guess is a story for later." Brooke said, sensing he was vague for a reason. Excitement bubbled up and threatened to surface on Hank's features at her implication. He hoped for a later, where he could get to know a little bit more about her. He thought back to their business there and was reminded that they only had a few days left, and he the last thing he wanted to do was play with this woman's heart. Heck, maybe he could just be her friend and leave it at that. He seemed to find more success with female friends who he didn't cross the romantic line with than those he did. He had a feeling his sleep would be interrupted by putting thoughts of her aside, and that was humbling for him. "A testimony if you will."
"I'd like to hear that actually." Brooke said, beaming now. "There's no better feeling in the world, than finding love, and sharing how you found it. It's so good." Brooke said with tears brimming in her eyes. "I mean what are the odds that a Jewish doctor from New Jersey I met in a signing line would see me again, in Sydney, talking about Jesus." The way she said the name sounded so familiar, as if she was talking about someone with them.
"You talk about him like a friend." Hank said. He was envious of her delicate balance of familiarity and weightiness. He knew from her music that her faith was deep inside the core of who she was. Never preachy but ever present either in message and worldview.
"Isn't he yours?" Brooke asked, her eyes intent on him.
"I don't really know what that's supposed to look like."
"You've been in love right?" Brooke ventured to ask.
"Yeah, I think so."
"You think?"
"Well when God starts telling you what real love is, you kind of start wondering if you really ever really loved anyone." Hank said.
"You have loved people Hank. You are compassionate, kind and I bet have excellent bedside manner with patients. Give yourself credit for that. Life is rough and you don't have to be the way you are. God made you like you are, and then he gave you his son. You're complete now." Brooke stopped, feeling like she was preaching to him. "I'm sorry I feel like I'm preaching to you, and to Boris, which isn't how I want you to remember your stay in Sydney."
"Being encouraged and uplifted by a kind young woman?" Boris said. He saw her confused look and continued. "Well, encouraging to Hank, and in so doing, you uplift me." Boris said with a small smile. Hank patted the older man on the back and smiled.
"I just know new fulfilled Jews such as Hank need community, they need people to help guide them, love them, just hang out with them." Brooke said with a smile. She searched for a pen in her purse, and scribbled down something. "This is the number to the youth pastor at my church, who also helps new believers get started. If you have questions he'd love to talk to you. Oh, yeah, I forgot in all this excitement…" She said shaking her head. Her laugh and brightness made Hank smile once again "...but we're getting together with some other people around our age tonight and he'll be there. He'd love to meet you."
"It would be good to talk to someone, if I can get away for that long." Hank said hesitantly.
"I'll be fine after our evening routine Hank, and we'll contact you if we need you." Boris stated.
"You sure you're ok with that?" Hank asked suppressing the urge to grin from ear to ear, instead the corners of his eyed crinkled.
"If it provides you with comfort Hank, who am I get in your way?" Boris answered. He didn't fully understand Hank's new something, whether it be religion or a relationship with a potentially imaginary friend but he longed for him to be happy. After all Hank had been put through because of the ruses he pulled, he deserved at least that. It hadn't interfered with his work in the least, but it had reduced his penchant to hover and worry. He worked as if he wasn't actually working alone, and he sometimes him murmur a prayer from time to time. He hadn't preached, or prodded anyone about the subject but Marisa had taken him aside and asked him questions. She wanted to be sure he wasn't loosing his motivation to work with them. He remembered the laugh that came from Hank at that question, it sounded loud and unburdened. Relief filled his love's features as they sorted her questions out.
"Ok then." Hank said looking at Brooke. "When, where and what should I wear?" Brooke laughed at the last question when he turned his voice to sound like a woman. This man was amusing and must have been comfortable in himself to joke in that way. She also noticed heat gathering in her face and knew she was blushing so she hid it with a hand in front of her face. She felt like she was being seen through looking at the laughing eyes of Hank. The feeling was hard to place, whether it made her comfortable in her skin or whether he was getting underneath it. What scared her was that it seemed like he wasn't even really trying.
"What you're wearing is fine." Brooke said after she composed herself. "We're getting together around 7pm, a barbeque and then some discussion of spiritual topics, and whatever fun the group comes up with. Perfect place to be if you ask me."
"What do you do for fun?"
"You'll find out." Brooke said, gathering her things. Hank suppressed the urge to frown. He was enjoying her wit, smiles and insight.
"Leaving so soon?" Boris asked, humor dripping from his words.
"Well, yeah, I'm sure you and Hank have better things to do at 5PM than talk to me."
"It's 5 already?" Hank asked, glancing for confirmation at his watch.
"We probably should head back Hank. Marisa will likely be wondering what our dinner plan are."
"Well, I think I'll accompany Brooke to her gathering tonight. I'll head back with you, proceed with our evening routine and I'll get a bite at…where is this?" Brooke gave him the address. "Joel's house, and I'll be back by midnight." Hank said with a nod. Hank watched as Brooke stood to say her goodbyes, and Boris stood to shake her hand. Hank stood and watched as the breeze moved her hair and the glow the setting sun gave her skin. It had been so long since he'd be in a relationship, so long since he felt the rush of making love to someone, but he willed his thoughts to behave. Innocence was evident in his woman and he wanted with all his being to encourage it. She was smart and witty, even a bit self-deprecating at times as she seemed to have a habit of making fun of herself as she spoke. His curiosity about her was growing and he wanted more then a little bit more about her, and the things that made her, her. Friends, family, faith, occupation, anything, or everything. It all depended on what she was open to share.
Her brown eyes narrowed in suspicion for a moment, then softened. Apparently he'd be lost in his own thoughts for too long at his mannerisms showed it.
"See you around seven Hank?" Brooke said reaching for his arm in an effort to extend comfort.
"Depends on how tonight goes, I will call you or your friend when I'm on my way. Can I bring anything?"
"Ahh, I'll be bringing a dish to share, but if you're living out of a hotel we don't expect you to cook."
"No, I'll pick up something pre-made from a market if I have to, I feel weird dropping in on people I don't know, to a party I was just invited to."
"It's just a cell group, and we welcome newcomers like yourself."
"Alright, I'll see you tonight, Brooke."
"See you then, Hank." Brooke said mimicking him slightly. She then strode away carrying her things in a messenger bag, as the sun set further into the harbor. He forced himself to turn his eyes away from her slender figure.
Boris and Hank quickly gathered their things and left for their hotel down the block. Marisa and Carlos were awake and curious about their dinner plans for that night, so while Boris and Hank prepared for the evening treatment and checkup they relayed the events of the day to her.
Marisa observed Hank's way of describing the woman at the café, how they had met years ago, and seemed to still remember each other. She thought it was strange that she remembered him, knowing how many people a woman in her profession could meet in five years time. Hank also sounded quite taken with her, even if he was trying very hard to sound like his interest was purely platonic.
"Be careful Hank, you sound quite taken already."
"Taken?" Hank repeated slightly embarrassed that she figured that out already, and that his attempts to hide it failed. "I'm probably just excited that another person who shares the same beliefs is, I don't know, interested in helping me, helping me to grow as a person."
"As a Christian," Marisa corrected.
"Yeah, that is what I am now, right? She called it being a fulfilled Jew though." Hank said reminiscing on the conversation. "I like that too. She looked so moved when she learned I was Jewish, like it was a dream come true or something. There was something very sweet about that." he chuckled. "And then I proceeded to make fun of one of the largest messianic Jewish communities out there, you know, Jews For Jesus. She actually laughed."
"You imitated a cheer for a sports team Hank. A little irreverent, don't you think? I think she laughed out of surprise." Boris added.
"Hey, what you want from me? I wasn't a very good Jew in the first place." Hank said laughing.
Marisa shook her head at what she heard.
"What am I going to do with these guys?" Marisa said turning to Carlos who was sat next to her in a high chair.
If you've read this story thus far thanks so much! I know it's a interesting direction to say the least. Hopefully it's real and not too preachy because I don't want it to be. I thought it could provide interesting conflict and tension later on. What provides tension more than different belief systems and lifestyle changes? Please, read and review and please be constructive. I'm also willing to answer questions via messenger on